


Twins of the Hunt

by stilesinwonderland (itsabravenewworld)



Series: Mythology [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Greek Mythology, Greek myth - Freeform, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-23
Updated: 2017-05-23
Packaged: 2018-11-04 04:09:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10983069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsabravenewworld/pseuds/stilesinwonderland
Summary: The story of Stiles upbringing, as the God of the Sun, with his sister Allison, Goddess of the Hunt.In which Stiles and Allison are Apollo and Artemis, and Derek is Python.





	Twins of the Hunt

**Author's Note:**

> Hey y'all! I've been trying to get more into writing lately, and I think a new collection I'm going to be working on is going to be a myth collection, with Stiles and Derek in respective roles of Mythology that I can think of. Come talk to me at stilesinwonderland on tumblr and give me some ideas if you have them! I hope you enjoy, and have a great rest of your week! xoxoxo

Claudia’s love affair with the ancient God Zeus, though bringing about another form of love that was forbidden, angered the queen goddess Hera beyond consolation. In her rage, she sent out through the land a request to vanquish the phantom lover, and the illegitimate offspring with her. Zeus was able to hide Claudia, pregnant with child, for nearly the full length of a pregnancy, but the secret was at once revealed by a demon, who had spied on a meeting between Zeus and his lover.

No creature alive took up the challenge of taking on Hera’s cursed quest, however; the innocent Claudia was protected very well by Zeus through his control of the sky. She traveled in the light of day under Zeus’s open sky. The wrath from him was something very few would sign up to face. But Hera’s persistence and furiosity was enough for her to find the one cursed creature capable of committing what she requested.

The creature, a werewolf, with no will of his own, searched the land night and day, coming across an empty campground in the dead of evening. Nearby, Claudia hid in a damp, dreary cave. Her womb ached; she tried desperately to keep from screaming from the pain of her children kicking at her; she did not know whether her children would be immortal, or whether she would survive the birth, but her priority became keeping them safe. She stayed quiet, but the cursed wolf’s acute sense of smell revealed her. Claudia was just able to escape the cave with the wolf on her tail, reaching the sea before she found herself cornered.

She turned, clutching at her stomach desperately. She looked to the sky, praying to Zeus for the strength to overcome the creature. Zeus watched over the scene sadly through the stars. As dark as night, the creature, a wretched, cursed thing, could not go against Hera’s orders.  The wolf growled as he approached, and Claudia picked up what weapon she could, a large stick, pointed at the end.

Like a spear, Claudia chucked the spear as hard as she could, but the wolf simply caught the stick in his mouth and threw it to the side. “Claudia Stilinski, I have been sent here by the goddess Hera to administer punishment for the injustice done to her.”

Claudia pleaded desperately, “Please, do not hurt me. My children.”

Zeus’s heart ached at the scene, but he knew he could not intervene. What he did, rather, was send a pulse down, and Claudia, still with child, transformed into a small quail. Hera’s wail could be heard through the heavens as Claudia gave birth and before the wolf could attack, flew off into the distance.

The wolf trotted off into the woods following, leaving two small eggs in the sand just near the sea.

–

Stiles took his first breath along with a gulp of tangy seawater. He crawled from some sort of shell, and was fully conscious of his surroundings: a shallow lake which he was nearly engulfed in, and a similar casing next to him, in which a woman emerged. She blinked at him, spitting the water from her mouth back into the sea, her hair glistening in the sun.

“Stiles,” she says.

–

What little Stiles’s subconscious tells him is that his mother, Claudia, had given birth to him and Allison, his twin. She does not return for them, and a message in the sky from his father Zeus tells him that Hera had vanquished her in the sea.

His strength developed quickly, within two days he was the size of a fifteen-year old human boy, but twice as beautiful, ethereal, with shining hair a bronze sea neatly spiked onto the top of his head. Allison grew at the same rate, but rather, she developed their mother’s traits, dark near-black hair, and shining brown eyes.

Stiles traveled up the mountain each morning after his birth with Allison and looked at the sea. They both took up the art of the bow and arrow, training with each other and surviving off of the game from the forest. Allison was very much his equal, and trained just as fiercely. On the fourth day of their existence, they did not experience any hunger any longer.

Fully grown, Stiles and Allison learned to channel their immortality. Allison’s purpose became one of the hunt, but Stiles rather marveled in the feeling of the sun. When he felt tired, the sun faded into the sky under a veil of clouds, or sunk under the horizon. Through the coded message, Zeus revealed that though their destiny may change, Stiles’s power inspired the shining beam of the sun, keeping it floating in the sky.

On the fourth day, in mid afternoon, Stiles is running through the forest nearing the wall of caverns when Allison halts behind him. Simultaneously, they brandish their bows and turn towards the clearing. “Reveal yourself,” Allison shouts into the void. Her hair flows in the wind, no lines in her face besides ones of a scowl.

“You do not know of me, my child, but I come bearing the truth to you.” From the thicket emerges a creature in mass and size of which Stiles has never seen in his life. The dark hides one side of his face, but Stiles can see clearly the marred skin.

Stiles laughs, teeth baring slightly in a taunt to the monster. “There is not much else you could offer to me. I could tell if you lied to me.”

The creature bows its head, keeping its distance. “Then I shall be blunt with you, Stiles.”

“Please do,” Allison grumps.

“The creature sent to chase and kill your mother–”

“What of it?” Stiles demands.

With a huff, the monster raises his clawed hands into the air. His teeth are gnarled as he shows off a grisly smile. “Youth has made you impatient, hasn’t it?”

“Do not test us,” Allison grumps, baring teeth at him, a trait they are both fond of. “Tell us what you came to tell us, then leave our forest.”

Looking disgruntled, the creature goes on, “The cursed creature, evil in heart, a murderer; I know where to find him.”

Stiles lowers his guard just slightly, though he could still make a perfect shot with half-raised arms. “And you are telling us why?” It is easy from his spot on the high ground to see every movement. The creature is dead-still.

“Let’s just say that he is no friend of mine,” is all is said. “He resides in Delphi, under a mountain, the largest in hundreds of miles. He hides in his cowardice. Look for the stream that runs three ways; there you will find him.”

The air rushes as the creature lumbers off on all fours back into the dark, thickest part of the forest, where Stiles’s light does not go.

–

Stiles is more free to leave than Allison is; her watch resides over the young women of the Island, chaste huntresses, learning to survive on their own, with her help. So Stiles travels to Delphi without her that night, the fourth.

There are two waterfalls in Delphi, but the one directly in the middle runs next to a mountain, and as the creature spoke, forks into three paths. One runs through the swampy, damp area, another to what looks like nowhere, to another forest, and the third to the rocky plain of a village of humans and mountanous areas. The third is the one Stiles takes, and he reaches the top of the mountain of Delphi in barely any time. In the middle of the night, Stiles can still see clearly into the caves, but there is no creature residing there. Stiles pulls his golden bow in front of his chest, wary of a possible attack, but none comes.

He travels down the mountain again, then decides to take the second path instead to search. This path proves more successful, because before long, he feels an overwhelming presence in the darkness. It feels of misery and gloom, and Stiles can hear a steady panting before it halts.

Stiles is standing in a clearing, and through two tall, old trees comes a large shape, one of a creature of the night. Immense dark and dread overcomes his senses, and he knows that this is the creature the monster had spoken of. It looks of the exact same makeup of the monster they had seen before, but a darker shade of night-black, and hunched over, snout nearly to the ground. The shape it takes on is that of a wolf.

With not a single word, Stiles yields the bow, aiming straight for the heart.

“Can you speak?” Stiles’s bow and arrow was bent nearly in half with how hard he was tugging at it, fingers splayed out. It’s been long since he struggled with his aim, but it was never shy of nearly-perfect. This blow would be one of instant death to the creature. He took aim, leaving time for some sort of defense, but the wolf did not advance; it also did not retreat. Rather, the wolf stood its ground and stared Stiles down. “Can you _speak?”_ he repeated.

“Yes,” the large wolf admits in a growl, lowering its head slowly. His gaze pierces into Stiles’s, blue orbs emanating an ancient magic. The werewolves were very nearly extinct due to the human race, Stiles remembers. They used to be widely respected, but not the monster who all but killed his mother.

“And you remember of the treaty you made with the Goddess Hera regarding the human Claudia?” He asks the wolf, tugging at the golden arrow once again. He knows the creature cannot lie to him, but he nearly trembles awaiting the response. A near-human feeling.

The creature bent on its front legs, stepping with one leg forward in a near crouch. “I do, yes.”

Stiles nods. “Then you know why I’m here to kill you,” he states, taking aim. The energy charges within his muscles, pulsing like small strikes of lightning along his arms. “The demon for the innocent.”

Just before Stiles lets the arrow go, the werewolf seems to resign himself. Instead of taking off into the distant forest, he sits in the shallow grass and speaks. “You may be old in soul, but you do not understand all quite yet, young god,” the wolf tells him. His words stop Stiles short, but he is still poised to kill, muscles taut. He knows of the werewolve’s tricks, but he is the God of truth; whatever this creature says must be something true.  “I did not kill your mother, and did not chase her to the corners of the earth of my own volition.”

Stiles feels a muscle straining in his arm slightly. “An attempt to save yourself,” Stiles scoffs, readjusting, at the same time not knowing what to think. If the wolf is telling the truth, he could twist his words to his own benefit. Stiles wonders whether he would kill the wolf even if he wasn’t responsible for her death.

“Humour me,” the wolf says. His voice is devoid of emotion, and Stiles slowly lowers the bow all the way, the string loosening in his hand. “The Goddess Hera is responsible for your mother’s death; before you were born, she sent out a bounty on your heads because Claudia had loved Zeus, more purely than what she could ever feel.”

“I understand all of this,” Stiles exclaims. “Where do _you_ come into this? You took the money from Hera when the job was done.”

“Not quite.”

“Then what?”

The wolf muzzle trembled as he sniffed the air once, a resigned sigh if Stiles guesses right. His eyes are a dangerously sharp hue of blue, glowing in the dim night, but Stiles doesn’t know what his human eyes would look like. “Hera is deceptive, Stiles. She promised me my freedom, but also brought about my suffering in the first place. You see this form? I am stuck, by her will, and will never be free. I have been this way for twenty years.”

Stiles stepped closer. “But, why? You succeeded in chasing my mother to her death.” The sentence doesn’t sit well with Stiles, but he can’t bring himself to feel anger any longer. This creature cannot harm him anyhow.

The noise that comes out of the wolf’s mouth seems to be a bitter laugh. “I did not succeed in anything; the goal was to _kill_ your mother. Instead, I showed sympathy to her, and thus gave her the chance to give birth.”

“And now you are stuck as a wolf?”

A nod of the head. “Yes, do you see the collar ‘round my neck?” Stiles nods back, squinting in the dark. The wolf lumbers closer, but slow, to show he is no threat.Then, he bares his neck to Stiles. The collar is thick and golden,  “This stops me from turning back into a human. Inside are pointed spikes that will stab me to death, and since I have no hands, I am not able to take it off myself.”

Stiles is baffled that the solution is that simple. “Has no one offered you help?”

“Ah,” the wolf sighs. “No. No one has taken kindly to me since I took Hera’s side. I knew you would come for me one day and have resigned that I will die this way. So do it quickly, Stiles. I am ready.”

Stiles doesn’t even think of touching his bow. “I have a question: why did you try so hard to tell me when you knew I was here to kill you?”

“I honor the truth, Stiles; I was not going to be killed while you believed a lie.” Stiles nods once, looking at the trees behind the creature. The wolf’s story about the truth makes Stiles hesitate, and he considers what he would gain from such a story.  

Stiles brandished his bow and arrow, and Derek closed his eyes, standing up on all fours. “Stay still,” Stiles commands, asking, “What is your name?”

“Derek,” the wolf sighs out, and Stiles lets the arrow fly, straight at the solid body.

The forest lights up when the arrow crashes into the collar. Stiles’s aim is true and the yellow light fades as the golden collar shatters into pieces. Derek’s body flies from the force and flies back until he crashes to the ground. The force of the blow chars the ground slightly in a circle around where Derek’s body was.

Derek appears to be unconscious, so Stiles runs to the wolf’s aide, dropping to his knees. He places a hand on the furry body and immediately he shivers, growling violently. Stiles jumps back and preps his arrow for attack.

The trembling does not subside, but rather increases as the wolf’s body transforms. Derek seems to wake up and jumps up onto his feet, looking around dazedly. He howls in agony and there’s a crunch as bones seem to mend and change themselves. The fur disappears from his body and the final change is the composition of his back, elongating and straightening up.

When the change is complete, Derek is fully naked, kneeling still as if he’s not used to walking on just two legs. He is looking at his hands and twisting them around, then scanning up his arms. Dazed, he looks at Stiles in shock.

Stiles feels stunned as well; he wasn’t expecting Derek to be anything less than an ogre of a man. But rather, he is defined proportionately in what seems like every place, with a chiseled jawline and a dusting of hair on his face. Under his eyes are dark circles, probably from lack of sleep, but besides that, Stiles would describe him as impossibly beautiful.

He looks down at himself, flexes his hands, and his eyes flash once more before fading into a gentle brown color. “You,” he says, then his gaze fixes on Stiles’s arrow once more. In this form, Stiles can see the uncertainty in his expression that was lost before.  

“I have freed you, Derek, and expect for you to leave this place in peace.” Stiles feels like there’s little breath left in him. The forest is whispering, wondering the consequences of this action.

“I am grateful,” Derek says, advancing slowly. His gaze flickers down to the bow and arrow, hanging loosely from Stiles’s outstretched fingers, then stops.

Stiles puts the bow over his shoulder and rids himself of the arrows. He doesn’t think that Derek will harm him, particularly because of how worn he looks. “Will you survive,” he asks, wondering where his sudden care came from, “on your own?”

“Yes,” Derek says, but then his eyes shut and he nearly collapses. Stiles moves with immense speed, catching Derek under his shoulders. His head lay limp against Stiles’s shoulder, and he says “The change hasn’t happened in so long. I had forgotton how it felt. I just need a moment.”

“Come with me,” Stiles says, “I will lead you to safety.” He drags Derek through the forest, picking up his pace. The forest fades into the distance and then distance becomes nothing, then they are back on the mountain. Allison sees them, and prepares her bow and arrow, before noticing that Derek is in fact being carried, rather than chasing him.

“What is this?” She aims anyways, and Stiles can see the fury in her eyes. The lack of hesitation. “This is the one, isn’t he?”

“It is not what you think, and you are not allowed to harm him, Allison, until I explain it to you fully.” Allison still holds her arms taught and Stiles repeats, “Allison,” with all the force he can muster. She eventually scoffs and runs away, disappearing amongst the hills in no time at all.

“She will adjust,” Stiles says, and sets Derek down to get some rest. Immediately, Derek loses consciousness, and he lays there for the rest of the night.

Once he awakens, Stiles feeds him to return his strength. Derek can barely stay awake, and breaks into a sweat after he eats. “Stiles,” he mumbles in his sleep, and all Stiles can do is watch him, for however long he needs. He feels conflicted while watching, and wonders if his path was the right choice or not.

Derek eventually awakens, and asks Stiles to sit near him. He is panting slightly, and the sweat has not stopped yet, but neither has the fever. “Stiles,” he asks him, covered to protect him from catching a further chill. Derek grabs his hand, and Stiles is shocked at the absence of claws.

Stiles moves closer to hear him whisper, “I’ve been waiting for you for so long.”  

“I do not know what you mean,” Stiles says back.

Derek shakes his head, as if trying to rid himself of his stupor. “Delphi, the oracle,” he says. “ _When fate moves and you no longer suffer, one under the sun will ease your wounds, and the God of wolves shall rise again._ She told me of one who would free me, and bring peace to us all.”

Stiles grips his hand, feeling an intense emotion that he cannot describe. When Derek falls asleep again, Stiles lays him down and watches over him, feeling that immense pull only getting stronger.


End file.
